


call me angel of the morning (angel)

by oddeyejinsol



Series: devil in her heart [3]
Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: F/F, More plot, Spanking, demon jinsol posing as an angel, just .. yeah, mild praise / humiliation kink as usual, more blasphemy, more feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 01:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19843033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddeyejinsol/pseuds/oddeyejinsol
Summary: jungeun is sent on a mission, and she asks jinsol to look after jiwoo. in hindsight, she should have known better than to trust a demon.





	call me angel of the morning (angel)

**Author's Note:**

> i ... have fun!

Thunder crackles, and it makes Jungeun jump slightly. The sky’s been stormy all night, so it’s no surprise, but every sound has her on edge. It’s times like these where she wishes for human comforts, like smoking or nail-biting. Anything to keep her fingers busy — right now they’re tensed, talons threatening to spring forward. 

The next flash of lightning illuminates the alley, and suddenly she’s there, leaning against the wall directly opposite Jungeun. Her blonde hair gleams even when the lightning is gone and they’re plunged back into darkness. 

“Jinsol,” exhales Jungeun, relief seeping through her voice. The worrisome part is over; even as a demon, summing other entities is always risky. When you opened a portal, you never knew what was going to come through. Still, she’d recognize her old friend in any form she took. 

“Long time,” Jinsol says, barely audible over the rolling thunder, and steps forward, taking a lock of Jungeun’s hair in her fingers. “You changed your hair.”

“And you didn’t,” Jungeun returns, smiling slightly. It’s an old joke between the two of them: no matter how Jinsol appears, she has a tendency to favor blondes. 

“Well, I know this isn’t a courtesy call,” Jinsol says, always straight to the point. “What’s going on?”

Jungeun puts on her business face. “I need to call in that favor.”

Jinsol’s smile fades, probably not appreciative of the memory. Decades ago, Jungeun helped free her from the control of an older, much more powerful demon they don’t speak of anymore. If there’s anything Jinsol likes less than talking about it, it’s the fact that she’s been indebted to Jungeun for so long. 

“I’m listening,” she says. 

“The Hierophant isn’t happy with how much time I’ve been spending away from the Veil,” Jungeun explains. “She’s sent me on a fool’s mission that I know will take forever to complete.”

“I’m not getting between you and her,” Jinsol says sharply. “Anything else.”

“If you would let me finish,” Jungeun says with irritation, “you’d see that isn’t the issue. There’s something I need you to look after while I’m gone. In this realm.”

“Your little human pet,” Jinsol concludes. 

Jungeun freezes up. “How—”

“Word travels fast down there,” Jinsol interrupts. “Although I guess you wouldn’t know. It really has been a long time, Jungeun.”

Jungeun frowns at the lecturing tone. “Enough, Jinsol. I’m being punished for it, remember?”

“How long?”

Jungeun shrugs helplessly. “You know how time moves in the Forest. It’s impossible to predict. All I’m asking is that you keep an eye on her. Just check in every now and then, that’s all.”

“She’s a human,” Jinsol says, amused. “What do you need me to protect her from? The flu?”

“Humans get hurt too,” Jungeun says, more sharply than she intended. “Besides, I’m worried that my spending so much time around her is going to attract … less favorable beings.”

“But you’re not worried enough to stop,” Jinsol notes. 

“I’m selfish,” Jungeun says, coldly. Jinsol senses the shift in her aura, and she finally backs up. 

“Alright, Jungie, no need to get pissy,” she says, tone neutral. “I’ll watch your little plaything while you’re gone.”

“Thank you, Jinsol,” she says, although her choice of words rubs her the wrong way. 

“Does she know?” Jinsol asks. 

“What I am, or where I’m going?”

“Both.”

“Yes to the first, no to the second. I haven’t even told her that I’m leaving … she shouldn’t be involved in any of this.”

Jinsol doesn’t respond for a moment, then: “You really care about her wellbeing, don’t you?” It’s not even said condescendingly, just stated like a fact, which somehow makes it worse for Jungeun. 

“Don’t,” she says tiredly. “Come on, Jinsol. I'll never ask you for a thing again, just this.”

“Alright,” Jinsol relents. “Just promise you won’t die out there, okay?”

Jungeun smiles. Despite her playful tone, she knows it’s sincere. “Okay,” she says, and then Jinsol is gone as quickly as she’d appeared, leaving the faint scent of cinders in her wake. 

Jungeun is alone now, with nothing to distract her from her thoughts. She’s thinking about Jiwoo, as she usually is these days. Has the storm woken her up, or is it just making her sleep restless? Jungeun can’t afford to think about that, though, because it just makes her want to be by Jiwoo’s side and that’s exactly what’s gotten her into trouble in the first place. 

It’s time to go; she knows this. All she can do is hope that she’s made the right choice by trusting Jinsol. She takes a deep, steadying breath before she goes. The way back down is always worse than the way up. 

When Jungeun leaves this realm, Jiwoo awakes in her bed with a fright. It’s probably a coincidence, probably just a particularly loud thunderclap, and as soon as she’s conscious she can’t remember what she was dreaming about. It must have been something bad, though, the way she’s sweating and her heart is thumping hard. 

During their first few months together, Jiwoo would have recurring nightmares about hellfire and holy judgment, and when she woke up in tears Jungeun would be there to comfort her. (That often meant sex, so slow and burning it drove every other thought out of her mind and put her to sleep right after, so yes, she counts that as comfort.)

She hasn’t had one of those dreams in so long, but some part of her lies awake half-expecting Jungeun to appear. She doesn’t, though, and Jiwoo eventually slips back into sleep on her own, restlessly tossing until the dawn breaks. 

* * *

Jinsol has been waiting for Jungeun to cash in this favor for years, and now that she has, she plans on executing it perfectly. They’re friends, sure, but it makes Jinsol itch knowing that Jungeun has this debt dangling over her head. After this they’ll finally be even, and so Jinsol really is intent on following Jungeun’s instructions to a tee. 

That is, until she sees the girl she’s supposed to be looking after.

Jiwoo is beautiful, all round eyes and big smiles. She’s exactly Jinsol’s type, but then again, it would be difficult for her not to be someone’s type. She’s simply stunning, and Jinsol is just itching to ruin her. She can begin to understand why Jungeun would risk the Hierophant’s wrath for even the tiniest taste. 

She sticks to her word at first, watching Jiwoo from afar just to make sure she’s still alive and well. As the first week goes by, though, she can surprisingly see how Jungeun’s absence is affecting her. She begins to smile less, and her eyes become ringed with dark circles hinting at sleepless nights. Jinsol imagines this would hurt Jungeun, the younger of them having always been more sentimental, but not her. She can’t help that she’s a predator, and Jiwoo, all helpless and confused, looks like the perfect prey. 

Still, Jinsol manages to restrain herself — that is, until she decides to visit Jiwoo at her home. She’s been keeping tabs on her at school, mostly, but curiosity gets the better of her and one night finds her hovering outside Jiwoo’s window. She’s expecting the girl to be asleep, it’s pretty late, but to her surprise she’s kneeling at her bedside, hands clasped in prayer. Jinsol freezes before realizing that Jiwoo can’t see out, but she can see in. Although she can’t hear her, she can make out the words formed by her lips. 

_I know it’s not right to ask you this, I know I’ve been so wicked lately, but … please, God. Bring her back to me. Or at least let me know why she left._ She looks so sincere, so earnest, and the threatening shine of tears in her eyes makes something snap inside Jinsol. 

Before she knows it she’s inside, and the air smells like Jiwoo and is almost stiflingly warm. It takes a couple of seconds for Jiwoo’s brain to catch up to the fact that someone has suddenly appeared in her room, and when it clicks she gasps and sprawls backwards, hitting her back against the bed. 

“Who are you?” she squeaks, hand rushing to clutch at her chest. 

Jinsol gives her widest, most non-threatening smile. “I’m Jinsol,” she says; at first she considers giving her one of her many aliases, but she wants to hear her name — her _real_ name — fall from Jiwoo’s lips when she tasks her apart. 

Jiwoo is breathing heavily. “ _What_ are you?”

She’s clever, Jinsol notes. She thinks of Jiwoo kneeling in prayer, looks around the room and sees the Bible tucked deep into the bookshelf, the cross half-hidden behind a picture frame. It takes her a split second to make her decision.

“Your saviour,” she says gently, and although it hurts a little in this form, she lets her wings spread out behind her. Jiwoo raises a trembling hand to her mouth, surveying Jinsol’s appearance in awe, and Jinsol can’t help but smile. She knows how deceiving she looks like this, her wings blue and semi-translucent, fluttering like gossamer sheets. 

“An angel,” Jiwoo says softly, and Jinsol’s grin grows into something sharper. That was easy. 

Jinsol lets her wings fades away, moves closer so she’s kneeling in front of Jiwoo. “I heard your prayer,” she says, and Jiwoo’s eyes light up immediately. 

“Really?” she asks, breathless. “Where is she?”

Jinsol sits back on her knees. “I’m afraid I don’t know that,” she says, somewhat truthfully. 

Jiwoo’s lower lip wobbles. “Why did she leave me?”

“I don’t know that either,” Jinsol says, a lie this time. “But she _did_ leave you, didn’t she? It’s been a while, now, and you’re not under her influence anymore. That’s why I was able to reach you.”

Being a demon, she’s more than skilled in the art of manipulation, and she can read in Jiwoo’s eyes that the girl totally believes her. She continues, but drops her tone. “See, I know how bad you’ve been. How bad she’s made you.”

She cups Jiwoo’s cheek, and the redhead shivers at the touch. “I ... I know. I’m sorry,” she says quietly, but she doesn’t sound it. If anything, Jinsol feels her heartbeat quicken at the touch, and she has to bite back a smile. God, she’s making it so easy for her, and she just can’t help herself. 

She leans in closer, till she can feel Jiwoo’s breaths fanning across her face. “Are you really sorry?” she asks, barely above a whisper. “Because you can be saved from her sin, but you have to really, _really_ want it.”

Jiwoo’s breath is coming fast now, unable to think with Jinsol so close. “I do, I r-really do.”

“No, that’s not what you want,” Jinsol murmurs, and Jiwoo’s face falls. “I can tell what you want, sweetheart. You want me, don’t you?” She grins, wicked. 

Jiwoo opens her mouth, but her voice is caught in her throat. “I—”

“Don’t bother denying it,” Jinsol interrupts. “She really ruined you, hmm? Made you all dirty and desperate.” She trails her hand down Jiwoo’s neck, delighted at the way her words make the girl shudder. “And you like that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Jiwoo squeaks, flushing with shame. “I’m sorry…”

“You keep saying that, but I still don’t believe you,” Jinsol tuts, withdrawing her hand. Jiwoo leans into her automatically, chasing the touch, but Jinsol draws back completely, shaking her head. 

“Sit up on the bed for me,” she says, and Jiwoo scrambles to do so. She’s so obedient, watching Jinsol with wide eyes as she waits for her next command, and it’s taking an incredible amount of strength for Jinsol not to just take her there and then. But not yet, she tells herself. She wants to see Jiwoo squirm. 

She places a hand on each of Jiwoo’s knees, nudges them apart slightly, and settles between them. She’s looking up at Jiwoo, but from the way Jiwoo’s chest is falling and rising fast, it’s obvious which one of them is in control. 

“Our Father,” Jinsol says. 

Jiwoo blinks. “What?”

“The prayer, silly. Our Father. Recite it.” Jinsol raises an eyebrow. “Or have you forgotten it so fast?”

Jiwoo shakes her head, eager to please. “Our Father who art in heaven,” she begins, but stops when Jinsol’s hands begin to creep up her legs. 

Jinsol stills the movement as soon as Jiwoo stops speaking. “I didn’t tell you to stop,” Jinsol says, digging the pads of her fingers into the soft flesh. 

Jiwoo swallows, looking skyward like she’s asking for help. “Hallowed be thy name,” she continues, and Jinsol’s hands continue their ascent, lazily tracing across her skin. Jiwoo manages to finish the prayer from muscle memory alone, her mouth forming the words without thinking. She _can’t_ think, not with Jinsol touching her like this, spreading her thighs further as her fingertips ghost dangerously high. 

“... and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, amen,” Jiwoo finishes, rushed. She almost whines with frustration when Jinsol stops again, her fingers _just_ slipping underneath the hem of Jiwoo’s sleep shorts. 

“Good,” Jinsol says, watching in amusement as Jiwoo physically relaxes at the praise. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Jiwoo shakes her head in response. 

“Alright. Now, take these off,” Jinsol instructs, tugging at the shorts. 

Jiwoo hesitates. “Isn’t that … bad?” she asks, clearly conflicted. Jinsol is impressed that she even has the presence of mind to resist, but is also a little irritated by it, because it clearly means she isn’t doing a good enough job. 

“With that succubus of yours, maybe. Not with me,” she assures, blinking innocently up at Jiwoo. “I’m an angel, remember, baby? Would I lead you astray?”

Jiwoo bites her lip, and without further ado stands up to pull her shorts off. When she sits back down Jinsol can see she’s wearing pink polka-dot panties with a little bow on the front, like a present perfectly wrapped just for her. 

“Good girl,” Jinsol all but purrs, resuming her position between Jiwoo’s legs. It’s sweet how Jiwoo’s practically shaking when Jinsol puts her hands back on her thighs, and Jinsol wants to ask her, _you don’t get fucked for a week and you’re trembling for it, you want me to touch you so bad?_ but she refrains. Instead, she says: “Another Our Father.”

Jiwoo exhales shakily and begins the prayer again. She refuses to look at Jinsol, even as her fingers dance closer and closer to her crotch, and Jinsol isn’t having that, so when Jiwoo reaches _amen_ she leans forward and licks a hot, wide stripe up the fabric. 

Jiwoo jerks in surprise, her eyes shooting down to meet Jinsol’s. The blonde is already smiling up at her, looking every bit an angel. 

“Just one more,” she coos, “then you get your reward. You think you can wait that long?”

Jiwoo’s eyelids flutter before she shuts them in determination and begins to pray once more. Jinsol doesn’t try to be subtle with her touches now, ghosting kisses over the front of Jiwoo’s panties and snapping the hem against her hip. Jiwoo stutters all the way through, but by some miracle manages to finish the prayer in record time, stumbling over her words to finish.

“Amen,” she says, and her eyes snap open again, blown and pleading. Jinsol could probably make her beg for it, but she’s feeling particularly benevolent.

“Perfect. Raise your hips,” she instructs, wasting no time in tugging Jiwoo’s panties down to her ankles. The girl leans back on her elbows and throws an arm over her eyes, probably embarrassed at being on display. Jinsol doesn’t get why, though; she’s cute here, like the rest of her, all soft and pink and flushed. She can’t help but trail a digit through her folds, collecting slickness on her fingertip and reveling in Jiwoo’s sharp inhale.

“So worked up already,” Jinsol murmurs, pressing a kiss to the inside of Jiwoo’s thigh. “That no-good demon really made you a needy little thing, hm? Don’t worry, though, darling. That’s what I’m here for. To cleanse you of your sins.”

“Please,” Jiwoo breathes, and it’s all Jinsol needs to hear. She uses her fingers to spread Jiwoo apart, smiling at the way the girl shivers at the cool air where she’s overheated. She’s adorable, even when she’s splayed out like this, and Jinsol begins to understand why Jungeun can’t stay away. 

She doesn’t tease anymore, diving straight in to lick tight circles around her clit. Jiwoo’s thighs tense, moving to clamp around Jinsol’s head, but Jinsol holds them in place firmly enough to probably leave light bruises. Jiwoo’s just as sweet as she looks, and Jinsol wants to eat her out sloppily, with abandon, but it’s not the time. She focuses instead on working at her clit till it’s stiff and needy, switching to the flat of her tongue every now and then to collect the wetness dripping out of her 

The soft noises Jiwoo’s making are almost as delicious as she is, Jinsol thinks. She can tell the girl is trying to hold back, but the movement of her hips betrays her. Jinsol could push her back into the mattress, hold her still until she cries with need, but she’d be lying if she says she doesn’t enjoy how Jiwoo rocks up against her mouth, seeking the friction. 

Jinsol looks up, and to her surprise sees that Jiwoo is looking down at her now, her eyes hooded with lust. When they make eye contact she averts her gaze, blushing, but her hand creeps down to nest in Jinsol’s hair. Jinsol shows her how appreciative she is of that, moving her tongue downwards to tease at her rim. 

Jiwoo’s hand tightens in Jinsol’s hair, which Jinsol takes as a sign to keep going, so she stiffens her tongue and starts to fuck into Jiwoo — shallowly, barely even entering her, but the effect is instantaneous. Jiwoo whines and tosses her head back, her other hand moving to the nape of Jinsol’s neck, urging her on. 

“Ah, I think I’ve found what you like.” As she says this, she removes her tongue and replaces it with a finger. Though the slide is easy, Jiwoo still whimpers and clenches around her, prompting her to add a second. 

Jiwoo’s eyes are screwed shut now as she pleads, “o-oh, your tongue, please…”

“Greedy,” Jinsol chides, but she indulges the girl and goes back to flicking at her clit with her tongue while her fingers press into her relentlessly. 

The sounds are spilling carelessly from Jiwoo’s mouth now, her whole body caught up in the rhythm of Jinsol’s fingers and tongue. “Close,” she whines, but Jinsol could already tell that. The sugary scent in the air is tinged with desperation now, and Jinsol really wants to see how pretty she is when she’s falling apart. 

“Alright, sweetheart,” she murmurs, changing from kitten licks to hard sucks, rolling Jiwoo’s clit on her tongue. Coupled with the steady pump of her fingers, it’s only minutes before Jiwoo’s entire body tenses. 

“Oh, _fuck_ , J—” her sentence ends with a choked off cry as her orgasm slams into her, all the more intense due to her week of unintentional celibacy. Jinsol laps at her eagerly while she comes, slightly addicted to the way she tastes, and keeps going until Jiwoo’s pushing at her head weakly. 

“Sensitive?” she asks, kissing the seam of Jiwoo’s thigh. It makes her shiver, and Jiwoo lets herself completely lie back on the bed, arms shaking too much to keep herself up. 

Jinsol moves so she’s hovering over her, caging Jiwoo between her body and the mattress. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” Jiwoo breathes, her eyes still wide and glazed as she looks up at Jinsol. “Th-thank you.”

“Thank _you_ , honey. You were so good,” Jinsol replies, and Jiwoo blushes so prettily at the praise. Jinsol takes note of that for later. “Although … that wasn’t my name you were going to call out, was it?”

Jiwoo’s blush deepens, but her expression is mortified. “I can’t help it,” she whispers. “I keep thinking about her.”

Jinsol pats her cheek. “I know, I know. She really has a hold on you, doesn’t she? But that’s what I’m here for, don’t you worry. I promise I’ll have you screaming for me next time.”

“Next time?” Jiwoo asks, her tone blatantly hopeful. Jinsol grins, trying not to look too much like a shark. 

“Yes, next time. Till then, I want you to keep up your nightly prayers, okay?”

Jiwoo nods, but Jinsol doesn’t miss the way she looks uncomfortable at the reminder that she’s supposed to be repenting. Jinsol should probably feel bad for her, but hey, she’s a demon. Sadism comes with purchase. 

* * *

Unlike Jungeun, Jinsol is not one to let an attachment to a human affect her daily routine. She continues living mostly in the Veil, coming up to check on Jiwoo a few times a week. She usually does so during Jiwoo’s nighttime prayer, both to establish a schedule and because it’s fun to see the contrast between Jiwoo on her knees to pray vs. Jiwoo on her knees to do decidedly less holy things.

Jinsol begins to understand why Jungeun is so obsessed with her, though. There’s something indescribable about her, how she’s somehow still so innocent despite the filth they get up to every time Jinsol visits. Jinsol could easily get addicted to the sight of Jiwoo, ruined and wrecked and still begging for more, alternating between praying and cursing God’s name when she’s being pulled apart.

Jiwoo begins to settle into their little routine, too. Jinsol is beautiful and hot and an _angel_ , what more could she possibly ask for? And above all, she helps her forget — when Jinsol is between her legs it’s impossible to think of anything else. It’s when she’s gone that Jiwoo misses Jungeun so much it physically hurts. One particularly rough night, she adds on an extra prayer: _Please, God, make me stop feeling so much_ , and cries herself into an uncomfortable sleep.

“Jiwoo? Hey, baby, I’m here.” 

Jiwoo rolls over, trying to unstick the sleep from her eyelids. Her fuzzy brain thinks _Jinsol?_ but no, the angel usually visits her right before bedtime. There’s nobody else who’d be waking her up in the middle of the night like this. Unless …

Suddenly wide awake, her eyes snap open, and there’s what she’s been fervently praying for: Jungeun, sitting casually on the end of her bed like she belongs there. Her hair is a little longer and her face looks tired, sallow, but there’s no denying that it’s her. 

Jiwoo sits up, her heart racing. “Jungeun? Is this real?”

Jungeun smiles. “It’s a dream, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t real. This is the only way I can visit you at the moment.” 

Jiwoo wants to throw herself into the demon’s arms and kiss her till they’re both out of breath, but something holds her back. “Where are you?” she asks, trying not to let her voice tremble. “Why did you leave?”

Jungeun’s mouth twists downwards. “I’m sorry, Jiwoo, I can't say. Top-secret demon stuff.” She raises a finger to her lips, trying to make Jiwoo smile, but the girl just looks away, clenching her jaw. Right now Jinsol’s words come flooding back to her: _she left you, she abandoned you, she doesn’t care about you. She’s lying, she’s a demon, it’s what they do._

“I miss you a lot, though,” Jungeun tries, placing a hand on Jiwoo’s thigh. Even through the bedsheet, it makes a shiver run through Jiwoo, and as much as she wants to resist she just can’t. Not when Jungeun is right here in front of her. 

Jiwoo closes the distance between them, kissing Jungeun firmly. Jungeun’s hands move to cup her face, holding her like she never wants to let go, and for a moment all thoughts of Jinsol and God and repenting are completely gone from her mind. Everything is Jungeun and nothing else matters. 

That is, until Jungeun pulls away sharply, looking at her outstretched hand. It’s flickering in and out of sight, like a hologram. 

Jungeun exhales heavily. “This is taking too much out of me. I’m sorry, Jiwoo, I have to go.”

It feels like a punch to the gut, but honestly, Jiwoo should expect it at this point. “Fine,” she says, aware of how petulant she sounds. 

Jungeun worries her bottom lip. “I’ll be back when I can, okay? And in the meantime … you’re doing okay, right? Staying safe and all?”

Jiwoo thinks back to Jinsol fucking her into the mattress, whispering in her ear, _I got you, sweetie, you’re safe with me._ “Yes,” she says. 

Jungeun nods. “Okay. I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise.” Then she’s gone, and Jiwoo sinks back into the mattress, trying not to let hope bloom in her heart. 

In truth, Jungeun has one more stop left. She’s grateful to find that Jinsol is sleeping, too — now that she’s physically in the Forest, the only way she can travel is by projecting her astral self. As always, Jinsol is dreaming about water. She’s swimming lazily, all alone in the middle of a big ocean, and she doesn’t look surprised when Jungeun appears in her dream. 

“Hey, stranger,” she calls, splashing Jungeun, who looks annoyed even though it isn’t real. 

“Hi, yourself.” Jungeun looks silvery, fuzzy at the edges like she’s barely there. “How are you?” 

Jinsol pouts. “Really? Pretending to care about my wellbeing when I know you only want to know how your human is doing?” 

“I already went and saw her,” Jungeun scoffs. “Just thought I’d follow up with you too.” 

Jinsol freezes up slightly. “Oh? Um, how is she?” 

Jungeun shrugs. “She said she’s doing fine. She seems upset with me, but I suppose that’s to be expected. They get so sentimental, don’t they?”

“They do,” Jinsol agrees. She knows it’s all bravado, that Jungeun is just as sentimental for Jiwoo, but she decides not to push her luck. 

“Thank you for taking care of her, Sol. Really, it means a lot,” Jungeun says. Jinsol has to duck under the water to hide the laugh that bubbles in her throat, because if Jungeun knew exactly how she’d been taking care of Jiwoo she’d probably be killing her, not thanking her. When she surfaces, Jungeun is gone, probably unable to sustain the projection any longer. Jinsol has never had the displeasure of going into the Forest, but she knows it supposedly fucks with your powers.

Back in the human world, Jiwoo is staring at her ceiling, having woken up shortly after Jungeun left her dream. Despite it being horrifically late, she can’t get back to sleep with all the conflicting thoughts swimming around in her head. On one hand, she’s hurt that Jungeun would not only leave her so suddenly, but refuse to tell her why. On the other hand, why is she surprised? Jungeun is a demon, Jiwoo _knows_ this, and still she fooled herself into thinking she could possibly give a shit about her. 

Although her mind is confused, her body’s reaction to Jungeun is loud and clear. She’d woken feeling hot all over with a familiar ache between her legs, and it’s humiliating that merely seeing Jungeun makes her feel like this, but it’s just been so long. And despite her exhausted appearance, she looked sinfully good, and the slight caress of her hand on Jiwoo’s leg had burned as if it were skin against skin. 

Her hand acts of its own accord, slipping down her stomach and into her panties, but she doesn’t try to stop it. She still doesn’t do this very often — despite all the things Jungeun’s done to her, touching herself still feels like the dirtiest — but she doesn’t care right now. Of course, the hesitant touch of her own fingers is nothing like Jungeun’s, teasing and bold all at once. Still, she’s drowsy enough that if she concentrates hard enough, she can imagine Jungeun hovering over her with that insufferable, sexy smirk, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to her …

Then suddenly there’s a shift in the air, a sudden warmth, and someone really is hovering over her. It’s not who she really wants it to be, though; the hair brushing against her cheek is wavy and blonde, and the eyes looking into hers are wide and blue, not sharp and red. 

“You were dreaming about her, weren’t you?” Jinsol says, closing her hand around Jiwoo’s wrist. The touch is gentle, loose, but Jiwoo stills the movement of her hand instantly. She just can’t stand how Jinsol sounds, disappointed like she’s talking down to a misbehaving child.

“I can’t help it,” Jiwoo says, aware of how whiny she sounds. “She’s the one who came to me.”

“And you let her,” Jinsol says in displeasure. 

“How was I supposed to stop her?!” Jiwoo exclaims, and Jinsol’s eyes flash almost dangerously. It shuts her up straight away.

“If you weren’t still thinking about her, she wouldn’t be able to infiltrate your dreams,” Jinsol says sternly. Of course, this is a complete lie, but Jiwoo doesn’t have to know that. For good measure, she continues, “am I doing that bad of a job of making you forget about her? Or are you just gone beyond help?”

Jiwoo’s heart leaps into her throat, and she shakes her head furiously. “No,” she says, voice hard with determination. “No, I can get her out of my mind, I promise. Please, Jinsol. Don’t give up on me.” _Like she did_ , are the words she bites back.

Jinsol pretends to think about it. “You don’t deserve my help,” she says, pausing for a second to relish the way Jiwoo’s face falls at her words. “But clearly you need it. I leave you for a few days and come back to this? To you touching yourself, thinking about her?”

“I’m sorry,” Jiwoo whimpers, shame rising in the back of her throat. 

Jinsol shrugs, leans back so she’s straddling Jiwoo’s thighs. “Alright, show me then. You started this, so you can finish it yourself. I won’t touch you.” 

“Please, no,” Jiwoo says hurriedly. “I’ll be good, I will, I promise.” Her eyes are wide, frantic, and it’s taking _so_ much self-control for Jinsol not to push that pretty face into the pillow and fuck her senseless. Still, there’s something to be said for the way this makes her feel, Jiwoo needy and begging and wanting to be good for her.

“You _will_ be good, and you’ll do as I say,” Jinsol says sternly. “Now, keep going.” Jiwoo looks at her, eyes still pleading, but Jinsol just crosses her arms and raises a brow, meaning business.

Jiwoo sighs, resigned, and continues moving her hand. She feels awkward at first, but soon Jinsol’s hungry gaze makes her feel flustered in a good way. She closes her eyes, letting herself get lost in the little pinpricks of pleasure whenever her fingers press down. 

“Faster,” Jinsol commands, and Jiwoo responds without thinking, picking up the pace. She’s getting wetter, and the slick slide of her fingers against her clit feels unbearably good. _Why don’t I do this more often?_ she thinks. 

“I don’t know, sweetheart. Especially when you look so good doing it,” Jinsol murmurs, and oh, Jiwoo must have said that out loud. She whimpers softly at the praise, arching her neck for Jinsol’s viewing pleasure. It feels too good for her to be embarrassed anymore; now that she’s in the zone the power play is turning her on, and she actually wants to show off a little for Jinsol. 

So she does, makes a show of spreading her legs, and is rewarded by Jinsol pulling her panties down roughly, fully exposing her. Jiwoo inhales shakily, feeling herself throb with need, and without thinking she pushes a finger into herself. 

Jinsol grabs her wrist, harder this time, yanking her hand away completely. “I didn’t tell you to do that.”

“Sorry,” Jiwoo rushes to say. “Just … felt really good.”

The corner of Jinsol’s mouth quirks upward. “I know it did. And that’s part of the problem. This is supposed to be a punishment, no?” She doesn’t wait for Jiwoo to answer, just moves off of her completely, and Jiwoo instantly misses the warm weight. 

“On your stomach,” Jinsol says, and those three words make Jiwoo’s heartbeat stutter. She quickens to obey, knowing that Jinsol knows she loves this position. Something about how she’s completely at the other girl’s mercy, how anticipation spikes inside her as she waits for her to do something. Jungeun was particularly good at exploiting this weakness of hers. 

Before she has time to dwell on that thought, it’s quite literally slapped out of her. She hears the loud smack before she feels it, pain spreading like lightning across her bare ass. She can’t hold back the surprised cry that escapes her, but it’s not long before the pain turns into a dull heat that isn’t entirely unpleasant. 

“Shush,” Jinsol says. “I don’t want to hear a sound out of you, unless it’s counting what I give you. Now, how many do you think you deserve?”

“A-as many as you want,” Jiwoo replies without thinking, and although she can’t see Jinsol she can imagine her grin. 

“Good answer,” Jinsol purrs, and then she’s bringing her hand down on the other cheek this time, just as hard. 

“One,” Jiwoo chokes out, clenching her fists in the sheets. 

“Good girl,” Jinsol says, and then another slap to the first side. It hurts even more on the already-sensitive skin, but it’s like the pain is directly traveling to Jiwoo’s core, coiling in her lower stomach. 

Jiwoo loses count after the eleventh or twelfth, beginning to count on autopilot when her brain gives out. It’s just so _much_ , Jinsol is unrelenting, and she feels like she’s on fire in the best possible way. She’s unbelievably wet, too; she can feel it, slick on her thighs. Jinsol can see it too, judging by the way her hits start landing lower, closer to the seam of her thigh. She starts when Jinsol lands one right on her centre, jerking forward and barely avoiding hitting her head on the headboard. 

“Jinsol, please,” she begs, faintly aware that she’s started crying at some point, the pillowcase damp against her cheek. 

“What? You think you’ve been good enough?” Jinsol ceases her assault for a moment, just smoothing her palms over Jiwoo’s ass, and even that faint touch makes Jiwoo writhe. 

“Yes,” she sniffles, “I th-think so. Hurts, Jinsol.” 

“Hmm. You _did_ take it so well…” Jinsol trails off, and then the heavenly feeling of her fingers sliding into Jiwoo. “Now show me how good you really are and come for me.” 

She pumps her fingers a few times, curls her other hand around Jiwoo’s stomach to rub at her clit, and that’s all it takes. Jiwoo comes harder than she can remember in a long time, her vision almost whiting out as she shakes and clenches around Jinsol. 

When she comes down from her peak, she goes completely limp, her exhaustion finally catching up with her. Jinsol chuckles and repositions her on the bed, moving her out of the wet spot ( _god that’s embarrassing_ ) and pulling the covers over her. 

“You did good, honey,” she whispers, stroking Jiwoo’s cheek. The girl is already slipping into sleep, so Jinsol takes her leave — she’s not the type to stick around. Unlike certain other demons. 

The rest of Jiwoo’s dreams that night revolve around ocean eyes and soft, satiny wings; for the first time since Jungeun left, she wakes without her name on her lips. 

* * *

The air is thick; red; hot. Jungeun feels like she’s suffocating, like there’s something weighing her down. Then she remembers: there is. She’s been carrying the girl for so long, out of the Forest and all the way here, and her arms are screaming for relief. She lets her go, tumbling to the floor unceremoniously, and then the smoke clears and she can breathe again.

She’s been in the Hierophant’s palace more times than she can count — usually not for good reasons — but its splendor still takes her breath away every time. The walls are draped in rich red fabric, looking like it’s dripping onto the glossy black floor, which is soothingly cool in the midst of the heat of the room. The Hierophant sits on her throne, made up of millions of tiny crystal shards; they dazzle so brilliantly it’s hard for Jungeun to even look at her. As always, there’s a beautiful demon in her lap, kissing along her neck, but once the Hierophant sees her visitors she makes the girl disappear with a snap of her fingers.

“You brought her,” the Hierophant says, her hands clenching the armrests of the throne. Jungeun can see how tense she is, that she’s dying to leap forward and gather up the girl lying on the ground, but she’s holding herself back. She looks every bit her cool, composed self, the snowy folds of her dress dancing like smoke in an unseen breeze.

“She’s alive,” Jungeun answers her unspoken question. At this, the Hierophant does get out of her throne, appearing by the girl’s side in an instant. She kneels over her, letting her sleek short hair cover her face, but it’s not enough to hide the relief in her expression.

“She’s so weak. I can barely feel her aura at all,” the Hierophant mutters, her brow furrowing. “Where did you find her?”

Jungeun sits down on the ground, exhausted, and luckily the Hierophant doesn’t strike her for not asking permission. “Deep in the Forest. Much deeper than she ever should have been able to go alone,” she says. “And Hierophant, you’re not going to like this, but she was surrounded by cherries.”

The Hierophant’s head instantly jolts up, her sister forgotten, and there’s so much fury in her sharp eyes that Jungeun starts to tremble. “Uneaten!” she hastens to add. “She resisted, Your Unholiness. It must have taken incredible self-control, but she didn’t take a single bite.”

The Hierophant squeezes her eyes shut, clearly struggling to contain her emotions, and presses a hand to the unconscious girl’s forehead in a surprising display of tenderness. “Thank you, Jungeun,” she says, and Jungeun nearly chokes on air in surprise. It's rare to hear those words from her, even rarer to hear her voice so gentle. “If you had been even a moment later, I fear she would not have made it, and she is truly the only thing I have ever cared for, so thank you.” 

“No need to thank me, Your Dishonor. I was merely doing my duty,” she says, careful with her phrasing. Now that the Hierophant is being so uncharacteristically grateful, she wants to remind her that she’s completed her task.

The Hierophant nods. “Yes, you have done more than your duty. I had feared you were forgetting your alliances, but my worries are quelled now. You have done me a great service, Jungeun, which is why you are now free to go.”

Jungeun’s heart flips. “Free to go—”

“Back up, yes,” the Hierophant says, her nose wrinkling in distaste. “Of course, I am not pleased with your … attachment to this human, but I will not stop you. We all have our weaknesses.” At this, she looks down at her sister again, smooths a hand over her hair. She’s looking better already now that she’s out of the Forest and back in the Veil, color slowly beginning to return to her cheeks.

“Thank you, Mistress,” Jungeun says, bowing deeply and rising to her feet. She’s still tired, will probably need a century of sleep to feel normal again, but she might die if she doesn’t see Jiwoo right this second. “Permission to leave?”

“Granted,” the Hierophant says, standing and collecting her sister in her arms like she weighs nothing. “But, Jungeun. You might want to reconsider this relationship. A breach in one's armor so easily spotted is worse than being unarmed altogether.”

With that she takes her leave, striding hurriedly down the long hallway with the girl in her arms. Jungeun shoves away her warning words and closes her eyes, thinking of Jiwoo and letting herself go.

Jiwoo, at the moment, is absolutely not thinking of Jungeun. She had been, earlier in the day; she was doing her spring cleaning and, to her horror, came across the strap-on she and Jungeun used to use. Her first instinct was to throw it away and cry, but she steeled herself, left it laying out on her desk. When Jinsol had come to visit her that night, she’d pressed it into her hands, blushing.

“Make me forget about her?” she’d asked shyly, and Jinsol didn’t need her to ask twice.

Yes, Jungeun was far from her mind at the moment. It’s currently completely occupied by Jinsol: her lips, her tongue, her hands on Jiwoo’s waist, holding her firm in her lap while Jiwoo bounces shamelessly on her strap. In this position every thrust hits so deep, stoking the fire deep in Jiwoo’s stomach, and all she can to is steady her hands on Jinsol’s shoulders and ride her for dear life. It’s oddly intimate, too. There’s nowhere to look except at Jinsol, her pupils blown and her lips parted gently as she watches Jiwoo fuck herself onto her.

Her hands travel down the curve of Jiwoo’s spine and cup her ass, spreading her open as she fucks up into her in sharp, calculated thrusts. Jiwoo mewls, a soft, needy sound, and Jinsol tears her gaze away from Jiwoo’s face for a moment to mouth at the soft swell of her breast. She takes a hard nipple into her mouth, rolling it on her tongue and grazing it with her teeth until Jiwoo is whimpering, before giving the same treatment to the other. Then she moves her mouth upwards, leaving a trail of biting kisses along Jiwoo’s neck before capturing her mouth in a hard kiss, mostly tongue and teeth. 

When she pulls back Jiwoo whines, burying her face in Jinsol’s neck as she begins to grind her hips down harder. Jinsol opens her eyes, and there’s the last thing she’d expected to see: Jungeun, standing in the doorway and watching them with shock painted all over her face.

Jinsol’s taken by surprise, and her hips stutter for a moment. Jiwoo whines in irritation, lifting her head up from Jinsol’s shoulder, but Jinsol surely can’t have that so she grips her hips and drives into her harder, causing the girl to shudder and drop her head back down. 

“Ah, Jinsol,” she gasps, and Jinsol doesn’t know what’s more pleasurable, the soft lilt of Jiwoo’s voice when she says her name or the way Jungeun looks like she’s been slapped in the face. She makes eye contact with the demon over Jiwoo’s shoulder, grins.

“That’s right, baby. Say my name,” she murmurs into Jiwoo’s ear, knowing Jungeun’s ears will have no problem picking up on her words. “Who makes you feel this good?” 

“Jinsol, _Jinsol_ , fuck, you, only you,” Jiwoo babbles, and Jungeun actually takes a step back, still stunned into silence.

Jinsol squeezes her ass in reward, then moves a hand to stroke her clit gently. “Wouldn’t you love it if that demon of yours was here to watch you like this, fucking yourself open on me and calling my name?”

Of course, that’s exactly what’s happening, but Jiwoo doesn’t know that. Still, the imagine Jinsol paints is unreasonably hot to her and she comes without warning, stuttered curses spilling from her lips as she squeezes around the unyielding plastic. Jinsol keeps giving it to her, kissing her and swallowing up her sweet little moans, and when Jiwoo pushes up off her weakly, Jungeun is nowhere to be found.

While Jinsol kisses and caresses Jiwoo down from her high, Jungeun is pacing the alley, the one where she’d made the huge mistake of asking Jinsol to watch Jiwoo for her. Unbidden, the image of Jinsol's arrogant smirk flashes in her mind again, and before she can control herself she lashes at the wall, sending bits of bricks flying everywhere as her eyes glow red-hot.

A growl rips from her throat, but to her horror it comes out far more pathetic than expected, more like a cry. She’s so fucking angry she can barely think straight, she can’t believe Jinsol would make her a promise only to turn around and stab her in the back — well, actually, she can. Jinsol is a demon, and a particularly malicious one at that. This kind of shit is to be expected. It’s Jungeun who hasn’t been acting like what she is lately. 

As much as she denies it, under all the anger is pure hurt, stabbing at her chest like a burning brand. If she’d been able to fool herself that she didn’t have feelings for Jiwoo before, that was over now. The thought of Jinsol putting her evil hands on her sends her head reeling again, and she kicks hard at the wall this time, the entire thing shaking precariously as she sends more debris flying.

“Easy, tiger,” she hears a familiar teasing voice from behind her. Before she can even think, her body reacts, turning around and slamming Jinsol into the wall, the force of it creating an even larger dent. Although the girl is taller than her, Jungeun uses her vice-grip on her throat to lift her up so her feet are dangling above the ground.

Jinsol chokes out a laugh, requiring both of her hands to pry Jungeun’s fingers from her throat. Jungeun lets her go and she drops to the floor in a heap, wheezing for breath. Jungeun doesn’t give her a moment to recover, kicking her onto her back and planting her foot firmly in the middle of her chest.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t turn you into a pile of ashes right now,” Jungeun hisses, already feeling her skin boiling. 

“You’ll piss off the Hierophant again,” Jinsol counters, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m not scared of her,” Jungeun snarls. That’s a blatant lie, but she’s willing to take her chances right now — she doubts the Hierophant will punish her too hard after she saved her sister’s life. 

“Maybe not,” Jungeun allows. “But she’s not the one you should be scared of.”

Before Jungeun can ask what the hell she means, Jinsol sits up with surprising strength, shoving Jungeun off her and sending her reeling to the floor. She gets up straight away, intent on killing Jinsol slowly and painfully, but Jinsol just blows her a kiss and disappears in a blink. 

Jungeun stays in the abandoned alley till it goes dark outside, taking out her anger on the brick walls. By the time she’s done, they’re little more than piles of rubble, and she wonders how the humans will explain this to themselves. Well, that isn’t her concern anyway. Now that her mind is clear enough to think, she only has thoughts of Jiwoo.

It feels wrong to appear in her house like usual, so Jungeun does it the human way, climbing up the stairs and knocking at her front door. For some reason, she feels nervous as she waits, her heartbeat skyrocketing when she hears muffled footsteps approaching from within.

The door flings open to reveal Jiwoo, looking adorable in an oversized shirt and sleep shorts. She’s rubbing at her eyes, probably aggravated at being woken up, but when she realizes it's Jungeun she does a double take, her eyes opening so wide it’s almost comical.

It’s like time freezes, both of them face to face and looking at the other. Jungeun’s heart starts to sink. What if Jiwoo doesn’t even want to see her? It seemed like Jinsol was certainly making her forget. After a few moments of unbearable silence she’s about ready to turn around and leave, but then Jiwoo finally moves. She pulls Jungeun in by the sleeve of her shirt, slams the door shut, and then pushes Jungeun against it, kissing her firmly.

Relief washes over Jungeun, as does a deep feeling of content. Kissing Jiwoo in a dream is nothing compared to real life; she fits in Jungeun’s arms so perfectly, and she tastes as sweet as ever. Jungeun breathes in deeply, like she’s trying to contain this moment within her, and tightens her arms around Jiwoo’s waist. She doesn’t plan on letting go again.

Jiwoo has other thoughts, though. Just as abruptly as she’d kissed Jungeun, she backs up, eyeing her with suspicion. “Is this another dream?” she asks. 

“You know it’s not,” Jungeun says, closing the distance beneath them and taking Jiwoo into her arms. When she leans in to kiss her, though, Jiwoo brings up a hand to clamp over her mouth.

“Are you really back? For good this time?” she asks, her brow furrowing.

Jungeun licks her palm, making Jiwoo squeal and snatch it away. “Yes, I’m back for good,” she says, unable to hold back a goofy grin, and leans in to kiss Jiwoo again. The girl squirms out of her arms, taking a few steps back and holding her hands out like a shield.

“How do I know you’re not lying?” she asks. “Jinsol says that’s all you demons do.”

Jungeun’s good mood is instantly soured at the mention of her (ex) friend’s name. “What do you mean, _you_ demons?” she says, annoyed. “She’s one too, you know, and a far worse one than I am.”

Jiwoo frowns. “W-what? No, she’s an angel. I mean, that’s what she told me …”

She trails off at the way Jungeun’s eyes flash a hot red, her expression turning murderous. “Of course she did,” she mutters, “that _bitch_. God, if I ever see her again …”

Jiwoo looks utterly confused. “Hold on, I’m confused. So Jinsol is a demon? And you know her?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Jungeun sighs. “I asked her to watch over you while I was gone. Of course, I did _not_ tell her to pose an angel and trick you into having sex with her, for fucks’ sake.”

“She didn’t trick me!” Jiwoo says defensively, then her mouth drops open slightly. “Wait. You asked her to watch over me? Why?”

“To make sure you were safe until I came back,” Jungeun says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Jiwoo’s hands fall down to her sides, and she looks at Jungeun with wonder in her eyes. It’s like someone turns on a lightbulb directly above her head, and she realizes that holy shit, Jungeun _does_ care about her. The realization makes warmth flood through her entire body, and she all but throws herself at Jungeun, kissing her with all she has.

Jungeun is caught off guard, has to take a step back with the way Jiwoo barrels into her, but she kisses back with fervor. “I missed you so much,” she whispers against Jiwoo’s lips, and feels the girl shiver delicately in her arms.

“Show me,” Jiwoo breaths, and the words seem to dart down Jungeun’s spine. Jiwoo’s biting her lip, her wide eyes now tinged with something darker, and Jungeun kisses her again like a woman starving. She lifts Jiwoo with ease, the girl wrapping her legs around her waist, and carries her into the bedroom, never breaking the kiss.

Jungeun pulls back once she has Jiwoo in bed, unable to stop looking at her. She’s so beautiful, a blush high on her cheeks and her eyes sparkling as she looks back at Jungeun. She’s overwhelmed with the way she feels right now, unable to do anything except kiss Jiwoo again, hoping that that way she can tell her all the things she can’t say right now.

“Need you, Jungeun, please,” Jiwoo whispers, and Jungeun nods.

“Any way you want,” she replies. As much as she likes being in control, all she wants right now is to please Jiwoo.

“Clothes off?” Jiwoo suggests, and Jungeun smiles, nods. They both make short work of their clothing, tossed carelessly on Jiwoo’s floor, and then Jungeun is finally able to drink all of Jiwoo in. She looks like a marble statue, but touching her breaks the illusion; she’s too warm, too velvety soft, to be anything but a human.

Jungeun resumes her position above Jiwoo, slotting their thighs together and pinning both of Jiwoo’s wrists above her head. She swallows, throat bobbing, and Jungeun chases the movement with her lips. Jiwoo’s soft moans encourage her, and she sucks messy kisses across Jiwoo’s neck and chest, mapping the creamy skin with red marks.

“Mine,” she breathes, before sinking her teeth in right at the collarbone. Jiwoo whines loudly, rolling her hips up against Jungeun’s thigh, and Jungeun readily grinds down.

“Yours,” Jiwoo pants, and they’ve said this to each other countless times before, but this time feels different for them both. Jungeun captures her mouth in a kiss, possessive and sloppy, and Jiwoo takes it eagerly, letting Jungeun swallow the little sounds she makes.

“Let me touch you,” she pleads, and Jungeun doesn’t tease, lets her hands go immediately. Jiwoo’s hands flutter all over her body, like she can’t get enough, before finally settling on cupping her ass and pulling her flush against her.

The contact makes both of them groan, and Jungeun rolls her hips again, relishing the way Jiwoo’s overheated skin feels against hers. She can feel how wet Jiwoo is, sliding effortlessly against her thigh, and knows Jiwoo can feel it too. This position is almost too intimate, the way they’re tangled together and their faces inches apart, but it feels perfect for the moment. If Jiwoo’s nails scratching up and down her back are any indication, she’s enjoying it too.

Jungeun tries to keep up a steady rhythm, but both of them are desperate and they end up rutting unsteadily against each other, their heavy breaths echoing around the room. Jungeun feels delicious, loose-limbed and burning up, and she thinks she could stay this way forever.

“Jungeun, I’m gonna …” Jiwoo cuts herself off with a breathy sigh and wraps her legs tight around Jungeun’s waist, rocking against her needily. “Please, baby.”

Jungeun flushes hot all over at the pet name and kisses Jiwoo hungrily, slipping a hand in between them. Although it’s been a while, she still knows exactly what Jiwoo needs, fucking two fingers into her at a punishing pace, and it’s not long before Jiwoo is coming. The way they’re wrapped up together, Jungeun can feel every inch of her as she shakes and cries out, and Jungeun’s name has never sounded so perfect on anyone’s lips.

It only takes a few strokes of her own fingers before Jungeun comes apart too, and Jiwoo kisses her through it, cupping her face tenderly. They lie like that for a long time, kissing lazily and simply enjoying each other. Jiwoo’s uncomfortably warm, especially because Jungeun’s skin is hot as always, but she’d rather melt than leave her embrace.

Unfortunately, the scratching in her throat becomes too harsh to ignore. “I’m thirsty,” she says, the words barely coming out, but of course Jungeun hears her.

“I’ll get you some water,” she says, patting Jungeun’s thigh before untangling herself and padding to the kitchen. Of course, she could teleport there in a flash, but it feels more domestic this way, washing a cup in the sink and filling it at the tap. When she comes back, Jiwoo’s curled up in the nest of sheets like she always is, and it makes Jungeun’s heart feel funny.

She crawls back into bed and hands the water to Jiwoo, who accepts it gratefully and drinks deeply. When she offers it to Jungeun, the demon takes a sip even though she doesn’t really need it, and sets it down on the nightstand so she can go back to looking at Jiwoo. The girl curls easily into her chest, and Jungeun busies herself with combing through her bangs.

Jiwoo’s half asleep when her hand suddenly tightens around Jungeun’s waist. “Don’t leave,” she murmurs into her searing skin.

“I won’t,” Jungeun promises, and she’s being honest. When Jiwoo wakes in the morning, fearful that this was all a fanciful dream, Jungeun is right where she’s supposed to be.

**Author's Note:**

> there’s probably gonna be a part 4 cause now i have plot in my brain and i can’t get rid of it god help me
> 
> come say hi on [twt](http://twitter.com/bluejinsol)


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